Contributor: Tony Rauch
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I swear I heard them outside for at least a month beforehand. Every night I’d crawl into bed a little earlier than the night before, to see if I could catch that flickering little twitter of a noise. It was always a mere buzzing. Or a faint humming. Just hanging in the air. Milling in the distance. Barely perceptible. Like the distant buzzing of the street lamp down the road by the swamp. Or like the mumbling of the air conditioner at the gas station. I mean, I could barely hear them. But they were there, somewhere out in that wet darkness of night.
Every time the coal train whistled, whining far off, fading into all that endless emptiness way out there (that nothingness just waiting to be discovered, waiting for someone like me to happen along and fill it up), they stopped for a bit. But then they always...

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Author:
Tony Rauch